Turn of the Moon (Royal Shifters #1)(66)
“I wonder why not.”
“Don’t start. Your alarm would just be going off.”
As if to prove her point, the dinging of my alarm started. Genevieve turned it off, and I headed down the hall to the bathroom. Four hours in the car with Gage. I could hardly wait.
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The Space Between
by Kristie Cook
Chapter 1
LENI
If I could take the form of a bird and fly high above the roofs of the village and soar over the fields, it would feel like this. With me balanced on his hands, Alberto spun across the stage, my arms and legs spread like a bird’s wings. After he gave me a push up into the air, I tucked my limbs in and twisted in a perfect spiral. My stomach dropped and my body followed as I slid down him and became a graceful heap at his feet just as the music came to its tragic end.
The audience exploded into applause, followed by a standing ovation. The thunderous noise reverberated into my bones, and my chest swelled as I took a bow for the very last time. When the audience showered me with white roses and Alberto and the troupe brought me a bottle of vino, I gave a heartfelt grin that hopefully hid the sadness battling within me. A dream come true . . . but I’ll never dance on stage again. My heart knew this truth. Tomorrow I would fly home, and this would all be nothing more than a memory.
But tonight was still mine.
I hadn’t been the real star of the show, not by far, but everyone made me feel like I’d been tonight. After the curtain fell, backstage became as loud as the audience as we all congratulated each other on a great show. I glided on air as everyone gave me farewell hugs and shouts of “Bravo!” and “Eccelenté!” Tomorrow, the dance company would move on to the next town, and the professional dancer who I’d been filling in for would join them. I, on the other hand, would be headed back to reality.
“Move on, move on! Take it to Alonzo’s,” the stage manager finally ordered in Italian. The lights over the stage went dark to emphasize his point. The theater owner was ready to shut down for the night. We all scurried to our dressing rooms.
I pulled out my cell phone right away and texted a message to Uncle Theo as I had every night after a show. I frowned at the phone when he didn’t immediately reply. Since he’d lost nearly all his hearing, I’d taught him how to text and email before I left so we could communicate while I was gone. He’d been a trooper at using the “silly gadgets” up until recently. He hadn’t responded to either my texts or my emails in three days now. A day or two was normal—sometimes he simply forgot. But three days? There are many possible reasons. Maybe the battery died and he forgot to charge it. Maybe he knows you’re coming home soon and is done with the “damn buttons.” Maybe he’s just too busy with Mira. This last one was more like my Uncle Theo.
“Beautiful as always, cara mia,” Alberto said to me in strong English heavy with an Italian accent as he stood in the doorway to my dressing room, distracting me from my phone. He’d already changed out of his costume into street clothes. With dark curls hanging to his shoulders, eyes like onyx sparkling with life and a perfect dancer’s physique, he was a sight to behold, even in jeans and a tight white T-shirt. He knew it, too.
“Grazie,” I said with a wide grin. “You were amazing, too, as always.”
“Of course I was. You come to Alonzo’s to celebrate, no?” he asked.
“Wouldn’t miss it. I need a little more time than you to look beautiful, though,” I said as I wiped a trickle of sweat off the back of my neck. “And I still need to change.”
“Bah! You should wear that,” he said, flipping a hand at my skimpy costume. “So sexy.”
I laughed as I pushed him out the door. Alberto was nothing but a tease. After all, he truly had eyes for only one person—Bruno, the sound technician.
Alone in my tiny dressing room with the sounds beyond the door quieting as everyone headed out, I pulled off my golden leotard and the scrap of shimmery material that passed for a skirt. I left my tights on and slipped into a white lacey smock and faded red cowboy boots. My chest tightened and my eyes burned as I folded my costume with deliberation and tucked it into my duffle bag. I’d never again wear it. I’d never again be in a dressing room like this, overhead lights flashing as the theater owner gave a final warning he was about to lock up. I’d only used this particular room a couple of times, but it represented all of those in the last month as I’d made my way across Italy with this dance company. Not exactly what my dream had been, but pretty damn close. As close as I’d ever get.
This is it, I thought as I slipped on my collection of bracelets and rings. My final farewell to any hopes of a dance career.
My eyes followed my hand as it caressed the old, abused vanity before looking up into the lighted mirror. With a sigh, I pulled off the band keeping my wild curls in a tight bun. They sprang from my head in every which way, celebrating their freedom. I smoothed my hands over the light brown spirals, trying to control them, but as always, they refused to cooperate. The best I could do was what looked like a curly lion’s mane. I dabbed at smudged mascara under my green eyes, rubbed some of the excess make-up off my cheeks and decided I was as good as I’d get.